


Aw, Christmas

by plingo_kat



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2847503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plingo_kat/pseuds/plingo_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Aw,” Tony says. “You really care about me.”</p><p>Clint rolls his eyes. “Merry Christmas, genius billionaire playboy asshole.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aw, Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> So this is based on that one Hawkeye issue (Fraction's run) where Clint calls Tony over to help him untangle some wires as he's unpacking in his new apartment. In case you're not a comics reader, Clint owns a dog (affectionately dubbed Pizza Dog by fandom) named Lucky.
> 
> Also, this is pretty much just domestic fluff.

“When you said it was an emergency, I was expecting, you know, an actual _emergency_.” 

“This is totally an emergency!” Clint looked down. He’s somehow become tangled in the mess of wires up to his shoulders. “A Christmas emergency.”

“Yeah?” Tony crosses his arms. “You know it’s not even Christmas, right?”

“I’ve had a bad week, okay?” Clint looks up at Tony, his fancy dress pants and fancier shirt, his platinum watch and gold cufflinks. “A really bad week.”

And Tony must see the truth of that in his face, or maybe he finally notices the bruises and scrapes, because his shoulders drop and he sighs, repentant.

“All right.” He toes half-heartedly at a coil of wire snarling its way out of a cardboard box. “What do you need?”

Clint gives him a _look_. For all that he’s supposed to be a genius, Tony can be the dumbest guy sometimes. And coming from Clint, that’s saying something.

“Help?” he suggests, holding up his arms in demonstration.

“Hopeless,” Tony mutters, rolling his eyes. But he kneels down and starts untangling anyway.

Clint manages a ghost of a grin as he begins to pick at a knot.

“After we get my VCR up and running, we can watch bad Christmas movies and bribe the dog to sit with us on the couch.”

“You still have a VCR?” Tony stops moving. “A _VCR_?”

“Don’t do the thing where you go all billionaire tech guy on me,” Clint says. He wants to flop back onto the floor but there’s a box in the way, and he’d probably hit his head. Again.

“I am a billionaire tech guy,” Tony says. He’s getting pretty worked up about this, Clint can tell. “It’s a travesty that my – that you watch movies on an outdated piece of crap like that. Let me buy you something else.”

“Okay, first of all,” Clint says, “my VCR is not a piece of crap. Second, I don’t need a 3D-TV with holographic technology or whatever, I only own tapes. And maybe some illegally downloaded stuff.”

 _“How,”_ Tony says, looking completely baffled. Also maybe slightly despairing. “How do you live like this.”

Clint would be more worried if it didn’t happen every other week.

“I don’t yet, because you haven’t helped me unpack all my stuff.”

Tony opens his mouth like he’s going to argue some more, but then Lucky bumps into the backs of his knees on his way to beg some petting from Clint and he shuts it again without saying anything.

“Fine,” he caves. “But I’m getting you a Blu-Ray player.”

Clint grins. “Sure, genius.”

 

Two hours later they’re both sweating, Clint in his shirtsleeves and Tony without his tie and suit jacket.

“I’m just gonna do it,” Clint says. “Get it over with, like taking off a bandage.”

“There’s a better way.”

“That’s what you said forty minutes ago, and look where we are now.” Clint squints at the mess of wires, works his cutters around the green one. Tightens his grip.

They both wince as the clippers shut.

“Actually,” Tony says after a long pause. “Why don’t you just cut the rest of this mess too, and I’ll take you out shopping.”

Clint surveys the disaster that his apartment has become.

“Nowhere owned by Russians,” he warns as he gets to his feet.

 

Clint _absolutely_ ends up with a 3D-TV that probably has some sort of holographic technology in it.

“Give me that.” Tony snatches the universal remote out of Clint’s hand. “Here, this is how you access your movie library.” 

He launches into an incomprehensible explanation with far too many button presses. Clint nods along and pretends he knows what Tony is talking about. But as it looks like Tony is drifting towards the sci-fi selection…

 _“Dog Cops,”_ Clint says firmly. Lucky perks up from where he’s been curled up in the corner of the room. “I was promised the latest episode of _Dog Cops_ – no spoilers! – and cuddling on the couch with the dog.”

“Yeah?” Tony casts him a sideways glance. “Only cuddling?”

“Maybe some making out,” Clint concedes magnanimously. “After _Dog Cops_ is over.”

Tony laughs, throwing his arm over Clint’s shoulders and the back of the couch, sprawling against his shoulder. Lucky jumps half into Clint’s lap, half into Tony’s.

“Hey!” Tony complains. “Dog!”

“Deal with it,” Clint says, but nudges Lucky until he moves onto the cushions.

“Aw,” Tony says. “You really care about me.”

Clint rolls his eyes. “Merry Christmas, genius billionaire playboy asshole.”


End file.
